


Of Course It Starts with Rodney

by Filth_As_Divinity



Series: He Kind of is a Kirk [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual John Sheppard, Blow Jobs, John is a slut who catches feelings, M/M, Rodney is a pain with a past, brief mention of past physical abuse (hitting), of course they end up sleeping together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filth_As_Divinity/pseuds/Filth_As_Divinity
Summary: Okay, fine, John Sheppard is a bit of a Kirk.  But the people on this list he's making are certainly not going to have any complaints.  He doesn't want to put Rodney's name on his list, so, of course, Rodney is where it all starts.I'll be adding new parts to the series as I get them written, so look out for those!





	Of Course It Starts with Rodney

**Author's Note:**

> There are a few brief mentions of past abuse throughout this fic. There are no graphic details of any kind, but please take care of yourself if that could be tough for you. 
> 
> This work is unbeta'd, and thus entirely my fault.

The first day that Rodney called him Kirk, John Sheppard was almost offended. Almost. He certainly would have been, if it weren’t… well… kind of true. But honestly, who cares about a little fraternization between team members on a multi-year expedition to a whole new galaxy with terribly slim odds of survival? Certainly not John!

And anyway, when making his mental to-do list, John had left off the members of his fine complement of military. Nothing good could come of sleeping with the boss - which he was still getting used to being. He applied that little nugget of wisdom to himself and left Elizabeth far, far off the list, too. He’d had enough of the black marks on his record for insubordination, thanks very much.

Another name he’d almost written off was Rodney’s. Ninety percent of the time, John couldn’t stand him. He was pompous and self-righteous and rude and downright annoying. Funny, then, and a little like poetic justice, that all this started with Rodney fucking McKay. 

They’d been on Atlantis for two months or so when that familiar itch started under John’s skin. He was honestly surprised it had stayed away for so long - but then again, a mix of constant danger and the pressing need to survive would do that to even the filthiest fellows. Still, things had settled down for the moment ( _ knock on wood _ ) and desire was creeping back to him in that comfortable, languorous way that it always did.

It always started with a change in the way that he noticed the people around him. Now, he might play the role of aloof and unobservant when it suited him, but John was generally pretty focused. He liked to think he could read people - especially his people. Still, there was a subtle change in the things he read when he was starting to lean into the itch. It was something about the way people moved around him and the way that movement drew his eyes to shoulders and hips.

Sharper senses were next. Casual touches from colleagues sent tingles rolling over his skin in waves. Eye contact made something low in his stomach tighten, and he held the gazes of his conversation partners for longer than was entirely appropriate. Smells teased at him, little breezes carrying hints of soaps and sweat and the fruits that they had encountered in this wild, new place. He knew from experience that kissing someone, running his lips over a lover’s skin, would be intoxicating. Right this second, though, he could hear the heartbeats and laboured breathing of his team as they collected themselves in front of the gate that they had just thrown themselves through in another mad dash from the wraith. One teammate’s laboured breathing more than others. And his complaining.

“I’m  _ not _ designed for this! My body is meant for science and the higher pursuits!” Rodney’s whining had been on John’s last nerve for six hours. He’d done a damn good job hiding it until - “If I wanted to be dragged across enemy territory at breakneck speeds while fearing for my life, I would have been a military meathead!”

That was definitely barbed at John, and he returned Rodney’s haughty, self-aggrandizing glare with as much outrage as he could muster. “Ah, yes, pardon me! Next time, I’ll leave you to get eaten by the wraith!” He punctuated the last words with hands thrown into the air and… and Rodney flinched? Not just a little ‘you surprised me and I’m flinching on instinct’, either, but a full on, fear-based, ‘I’m used to someone hitting me’ recoil.

And in that exact moment, Rodney didn’t just make John’s list. He jumped to the top. God, why was John like this?

He wanted to strangle whoever made Rodney flinch when someone yelled and moved too quickly. He wanted to touch Rodney all over with gentle hands and prove to him that he’d never have to flinch away from John. He wanted kiss Rodney’s stupid, snooty face and reassure him that he’d always save his life, no matter how irritating that life could get. He wanted… well, fuck, he wanted Rodney.

Obviously unaware of the weird horny-protective instinct currently flooding John with warmth, Rodney just looked down at the ground, muttered something about how of course he was grateful, and turned on a heel off into the city. Teyla and Ford followed, pretty used to the bickering even just a few months in. Neither showed signs of having noticed anything unusual.

John cast a dutiful gaze up to the command platform, where Elizabeth nodded to him and let them all know over coms that they could debrief in an hour after they showered and stowed their gear.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John sped through a military shower while pointedly ignoring his half-hard dick. He was  _ not _ about to jerk off to the idea of having sex with Rodney.  _ Especially because I’d much rather try for the real thing after debrief _ , something dirty whispered in his ear. He gritted his teeth and scrubbed off the layer of mission sweat and dirt, trying his best not to put any more effort into it than he would have if he didn’t want to get laid.

Debrief was quick and easy, what with how used to running into the wraith they were becoming. John wasn’t the only one who thought that the frequency with which they were running into the life-sucking assholes had to be more than coincidence, but there wasn’t much they could do about it in a post-mission brief.

Rodney wouldn’t meet his eyes. John couldn’t quite read why; maybe Rodney was feeling sheepish about his hissy fit or shame for flinching, which he knew that Rodney knew that he had noticed. Whatever it was, John hated it. He spent most of the meeting staring Rodney down, willing him to raise his eyes and just  _ look _ at him. At least that way John could show him that he wasn’t mad, not even still irritated. But Rodney didn’t look away from the desk or from Elizabeth.

John was the first one out of the conference room when everyone finally decided to stop chatting. He knew he couldn’t catch Rodney in there, couldn’t risk being alone with him in such a public space with fragile hold on his own control. Instead, he ended up lurking in a deserted hallway somewhere between Rodney’s lab and living quarters. Creepy? Maybe, but Rodney would pass this way and John could… could…

Well, he wasn’t sure. He knew what he  _ wanted _ to do, which was to drag Rodney to one of their rooms and -  _ jesus, he was hard _ . But something in the rational part of John’s brain reminded him that the last thing he wanted to do was push Rodney into something he didn’t want to do. So he’d settle for enough airtime to apologize for shouting and to reassure a teammate that they were just that - a team.

John must have been caught up in his thoughts, because he missed the footsteps coming around the corner. It was only military reflexes that kept him on his feet as he ended up with a chest full of Rodney. The other man yelped and flailed backward, so  _ of course _ John had no choice but to grab Rodney’s shoulders and steady him. And then even those reflexes couldn’t help him keep in mind how polite and distant he was willing to be.

“Ah, God, loitering is a crime, you kn-” John had never heard Rodney silence himself in the middle of berating someone before. He was looking up at John with some very un-Rodney-like mix of embarrassment and nervousness. “Oh. Uh… Sorry, I guess,” he muttered, and made to pull back.

It was amazing how John had never noticed how broad Rodney’s shoulders were. Without thinking, he gripped a little tighter, and Rodney stilled, back to not meeting his eyes. “I’m not going to fall over, you can -”

“Look at me,” John growled, a little darker than he meant to. The warmth from Rodney’s body was seeping down his arms and through his chest and going straight down to bloom in his belly. Something in him was shouting to let go of Rodney’s shoulders, but he could barely hear it over the rush in his ears.

Rodney rolled his eyes a little, more bravado than anything, John thought, and dragged his eyes up. There it was. Shame. And, in every passing second that they made eye contact, something else. A bright flush was creeping up Rodney’s neck and into his cheeks, and he was too close for John not to notice his quicker breath.

They’d been looking at each other for a second or a year when John couldn’t stand it anymore.

One of his hands slipped up to the back of Rodney’s neck as he brought their mouths together. John used the last threads of his self-control to move slower than he wanted to, trying to give Rodney plenty of time to pull back, to shove him, to freak out and run.

But he didn’t. No, quite the opposite, he leaned in and met John in the middle. Rodney’s lips were warm and soft against John’s, and John couldn’t tell which one of them sighed when they were finally pressed together. It was a soft, chaste kiss, and John would have pulled back to regroup, but Rodney’s hands, so far just balled up at his sides, came up to grip at John’s hips and he absolutely lost it.

Something like a groan ripped out of him as his tightened his grip on Rodney’s neck and deepened their kiss. Rodney opened to him so easy, his lips parting on a whimper when John bit at them and pressed in, and the need in John’s chest roared for more. He was being rough now, he knew, with his tongue and teeth claiming Rodney’s mouth and a steel grip on the back of his neck, but damned if Rodney didn’t have his hands under John’s uniform jacket, and then his shirt, with cool fingers digging into the overheated skin at John’s hips and the small of his back.

A lazy nip at Rodney’s tongue had him whining and pressing his hips into John’s and the feeling of Rodney’s hard cock against his, even through layers of uniform, sent a jolt up John’s spine. He pushed Rodney back enough for them to both catch their breath, although it wasn’t far enough to get space between their bodies. John took full advantage of that fact and, when he could watch Rodney’s face, ground them together, sweet and slow.

The look on the other man’s face was divine pleasure - kiss-swollen lips parted and cheeks red and eyes screwed shut - and John almost went back to kissing him right there. But - 

“Rodney, hang on.” For all he was trying to break them apart, John’s hips wouldn’t stop pressing forward into Rodney’s, seeking the fizz of friction between them. It took everything he had to let his hands fall down to Rodney’s wrists, and he gripped them a little harder than he meant to in an attempt to steady himself. “Maybe the hallway isn’t the best place for this?” He knew how he sounded, gravely and breathless, and he figured he looked about like Rodney did right now - eyes fluttering open over big, dark eyes, face blazing with lust.

Rodney shook his head a little, and it must have helped clear him up a little. “No, of course not.” There wasn’t much of his usual pomp left, but he still managed a huff and a, “Not like I’m the one who instigated this.” He made to pull his wrists free of John’s grip, but John only gave him one back.

With a firm hold on the other, John turned and started tugging Rodney down the hall toward living quarters. He wasn’t about to banter, not in public and not while he was feeling this kind of wild. To his relief, Rodney came along silently, matching his pace in a way that almost made him look eager.

John’s room was first, and he’d never been as grateful for his Ancient gene as he was when the door slid open before he could even get there, and then slid closed and locked behind them as the two men stumbled inside. He had Rodney up against the closed door, bodies pressed back together and lips just an inch apart when he remembered what got them into this mess.

The thought of Rodney flinching away from his hands in the gate room was like an ice cube down his spine. He dropped Rodney’s wrist and scrambled a step or two back, giving the other man some distance.  _ God, what kind of animal am I? _

The instant hurt and anxiety on Rodney’s face made John regret basically the entire afternoon. Something in Rodney got small - his face fell inward and his shoulders hunched and he curled in on himself as much as one could while remaining standing.

John barely heard Rodney’s soft, sad voice over his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. “What… what’s wrong? What did I do?” 

That about broke John’s heart, and he couldn’t help but take a tiny step forward and lay his hand - oh so lightly - on Rodney’s arm.

“Nothing, no, it’s not that.” He hated that guilt and blame were the first thing in Rodney’s mind. “I just… in the gate room, when I got mad…” Jeez, if there was anything John hated, it was this kind of shit. 

Rodney shook his head, eyes still cast off to the side. “Oh, that? No. You saved my life and I chose that moment to complain, so…”

“It’s not that, it’s - well, you do complain a lot for someone who gets his ass pulled out of the fire twice a week -” that pulled a quick chuckle out of both of them - “It’s just that, when I…” John twitched his hands in a tiny version of what he had done earlier, and Rodney turned a pained shade of red, so much different than when John had had him flushing in pleasure.

“Ah, that. Look, it’s not you, it’s…” Rodney trailed off and John was getting really tired of him feeling like he couldn’t look at his friend, his team leader, in the face. Without a second thought, John put a slow, soft hand on Rodney’s jaw and tilted his face until there was nothing left to do but meet his eyes. 

“I know. But I want you to understand that that will  _ never  _ be me, Rodney. No matter how much of a pain you are, it’ll never be me.” It was a clumsy way to get his point across, but it got the job done. Rodney was finally looking him, even and steady, and something in John’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in his face.

“I know. I know, or I wouldn’t have come back to your room with you to do something that we are, very annoyingly, not doing right now.” There was the snark. John decided right then and there that he could live with that, especially if the trade off was - 

Rodney kissed him then, and yeah, that was the best kind of trade off. It started slow, an acknowledgement of what had passed between them, but didn’t stay that way for long. The soft press of lips became insistent, with Rodney demanding more and John happy to give it to him. He found his groove again quickly, moving his lips over Rodney’s jaw and down his neck in hot open-mouthed kisses that had Rodney gasping against him.

John’s back arched a little when cool fingers brushed his hips and crept up the back of his shirt. He bit at Rodney’s collarbone without thinking and got fingernails in the small of his back in return. The second he managed to pull his mouth away to bitch about it, though, Rodney was tugging his jacket and shirt off over his head.

When they’d been dumped somewhere off to the side, Rodney dragged him back in, pulling their hips back together. John groaned against the side of Rodney’s neck as sweet friction shot through his cock. He wasn’t sure when he’d forfeited the role of Man In Charge, but he wasn’t going to let that go.

John slid his hands under Rodney’s shirt, feeling the soft skin under his fingers tighten wherever he moved. Rodney’s mouth was on his again, distracting him with frenzied kisses that got sloppier by the second.

Breaking them apart just far enough to get a grip on the hem of Rodney’s shirt, John choked out an “Easy, Rodney, I’m not going anywhere” before yanking the garment upward with a haste that belied his words.

Rodney snorted, not missing the irony, and shed his shirt. “It’s not the going, it’s the doing,” he muttered.

“What does that even mean?” If sex brought Rodney down to normal human brain function and speech, John would have to drag him to his quarters more often. With a grin just on this side of mocking, he wrapped his hand around the bulge in Rodney’s pants and squeezed the tiniest bit.

Rodney grunted and thrust his hips into John’s hand with something like need on his face. “Shut up and pants off,” he huffed, and John couldn’t resist an outright laugh at that one. Still, he wanted both of their pants off just as badly, so he backed up, letting Rodney off the door - though he looked a little disappointed at the loss of John’s hand - and fumbling at his pants like an excited teenager.

His saving grace was that Rodney was doing the same; mutually assured destruction that neither could mock the other for being awkward, over-eager idiots. After what felt like too long, John had finally peeled off everything below his waist and had a free hand to keep Rodney steady when he almost fell. He caught Rodney’s eye then and saw no arrogance, no tightly-wound strings. Just excitement, eager desire. John knew he reflected it right back. The desire had been plucking at him for a few weeks, yes, but it rose like a wave in his chest now.

He hadn’t even blinked before Rodney was on his knees in front of John. He thought he was going to pass out when Rodney looked up at him, something shy in his expression as he asked a simple, “Can I?”

All John could do was groan out a “God,  _ please _ ” and rest his hand lightly on the back of Rodney’s head before his mouth was on his cock. Sparks danced from his groin up through his skull as he was enveloped in wet heat. He was lucky he’d had a moment to brace or he might have fallen right over. Rodney’s tongue was wicked, running up to lap under the head of his dick and then back down the underside. It took John an absurd amount of effort to get his eyes open -  _ when had they closed? _ \- so that he could watch.

Rodney sucked cock like he did everything: with unparalleled focus. Knowing what he did about scientists liking results, John let loose a few of the noises that he usually kept quiet, and Rodney repeated some of the best methods when he did. A little twist of his tongue, the tiniest bit of teeth, and John was halfway to lost. It wasn’t until Rodney made a soft choking sound that John realized he’d started thrusting his hips forward.

“Fuck, sorry,” he ground out, and made to hold himself still, but Rodney mumbled something around him and pulled at his hips until he started moving again. John whimpered, feeling that sharp pleasure wind inside of him, and took a couple shallow, gentle thrusts into Rodney’s mouth. Rodney hummed around him then, and the vibrations through his cock felt like they were shaking him loose. He couldn’t help it, he bucked his hips forward in a stutter and watched Rodney grip his own cock in response. 

A couple more thrusts and- “Rodney,” John gasped out, a little shocked to find that he could make any sounds other that moans. “Rodney, stop, or I’m going to cum.” He pulled back a little, hating himself for ending the oh-so-close pleasure.

“Is that a bad thing?” Rodney’s voice was gravely, his eyes glazed over, his lips red and swollen, and John almost came anyway just looking at him. Getting ahold of himself, he tugged at Rodney’s shoulders until they stood chest to chest and John could kiss him again. His taste on Rodney’s tongue was absolute sin. 

John reached between them to wrap his fingers around Rodney’s cock, running up and down in a light, lazy rhythm. “Not bad, no, but counterproductive to me fucking your brains out.” He grinned at Rodney’s caught breath and the way he pushed into his hand uncontrollably. Releasing his grip left Rodney to writhe against him, their cocks brushing and pulling moans from both of them. Only distracted for a second, John turned them enough to shove Rodney back on the bed and laugh at the unceremonious ‘oomph’ that puffed out of him.

Thoughts of all the filthy things he could do with Rodney, splayed out on the bed and panting, filtered through his head, but the desire in the base of his spine shouted that those would have to wait until next time.  _ Next time _ , John thought distantly,  _ if it comes around _ . But then Rodney growled something impatient at him and he dug out the lube and a condom, everything forgotten but this exact moment.

Rodney had wiggled up the bed to make room for John to kneel between his thighs, but John smirked in a way that he hoped said ‘cocky and dominant’ and not ‘about to drown in how bad I want you’. “Roll over, hands and knees.”

Rodney looked like he was going to protest, but shivered as he watched John lube up his fingers and, pupils blown and dark, obeyed. The second he had his ass up where John wanted it, he rewarded him with the soft press of a finger against his hole. Rodney’s entire body shuddered and John was pretty sure that he was barely keeping his hips still. Using his free hand to grip Rodney’s hip, he pressed his first finger in, oh so slowly.

Rodney cried out long and needy under him, and John had to take a second to catch his own breath before moving his finger in and out, stretching Rodney slowly.

“God, Rodney, you’re going to feel so good around my cock.” Rodney jerked as John pulled out, just for long enough to push back in with a second finger. Scissoring them gently, John debated holding out on him, but ended up not being able to stop himself from crooking in just the right direction to-

Rodney screamed then, bucking his hips hard against John’s hand. “Oh god, John, more, please,  _ fuck _ , more, please…” Hearing Rodney cry his name in that broken, delirious voice left John incapable of denying him anything. Hooking his fingers again, he ran over Rodney’s spot gently, holding him as still as possible with his left hand. It didn’t make much difference - Rodney became something explosively wild, working his hips back into John’s fingers and begging himself breathless.

John slid a third finger in carefully, but Rodney was more than ready for him. He was begging for more before John had even slid all the way in, and his frantic hip movements didn’t ease up, even when all three fingers strummed his spot like a missile switch. Rodney’s cock was leaking in streams every time John stroked him, and him gripping the base of his cock told John that he was achingly close.

He pulled his fingers out of Rodney to slick up his cock, and he could swear Rodney almost cried.

“God, John, fuck me, please…” Rodney sounded absolutely wrecked, and it took John a firm hand at the base of his cock to get control of himself before he started to press in. He’d intended to keep things slow, to give Rodney - and his own overeager body - time to adjust, but Rodney thrust his hips back desperately and took John in one fast thrust.

Both of them cried out when John was fully in, their hips finally,  _ finally  _ pressed together. Electricity shot up John’s spine and he had to clutch at Rodney’s hips hard enough to bruise in order to give them both a second, or John was going to cum right there.

Rodney’s hand was back on his cock and John didn’t think he’d last long enough to bother telling Rodney to stop, that  _ he _ would be the one getting Rodney off. Rodney gasped out another please and that was it.

John pulled back until just the tip of his cock was still in Rodney and slammed back in, wringing desperate sounds from both of them. He set a fervent pace, hammering with enough force that both of them would probably end up bruised and sore tomorrow. Rodney was tensing below him, every muscle pulling tight.

“John. John, I’m going to-” John slammed in, angling for Rodney’s spot, and felt him come apart. Rodney’s hips stuttered against his, his hole tightening down around John, and John fell right over with him. Pleasure ripped through him in a blinding wave as he thrust into Rodney a few final times before collapsing onto Rodney’s back, who sunk into the mattress pliantly underneath him.

They stayed like that for a little while, both of them catching their breath and trying to remember how to move, until Rodney mumbled something vaguely grumpy into the bed. John managed to push himself up enough to pull out and roll off, and to toss the condom into the trashcan next to the bed, before going boneless again.

Rodney shifted next to him, angling in the right direction, and John had to admit to a certain level of self-satisfaction when he saw the utterly blissed out look on Rodney’s face. He watched Rodney’s eyes flutter open and couldn’t stop a little smile, more fondness than anything, tugging at his mouth. 

“That was…” Rodney trailed off, still sounding hazy, his eyes sinking shut again, “... really good.”

John snorted. “Ah, yes, the brilliant Dr. McKay, reduced to a ‘really good’.”

Rodney slapped at whatever he could reach - John’s arm, at the moment. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, flyboy. I’ll be back to running scientific circles around you in like… give me five minutes.”

Something a little foreign in John’s chest rose up in his throat, pushing out the words, “You don’t have to be, you know.”

Rodney cocked an eye open and looked at John, clearly confused.

He didn’t know why he’d said it, but now he was committed. “Back up and running. I just… I mean…” He took a shallow breath, nervous all of the sudden. “I mean that you could stay a while, if you wanted to.” He knew that he was the one not looking at Rodney, now.

To his surprise, Rodney shuffled closer on the bed and tossed a casual arm over his waist, seemingly content. “Oh good. My legs are still sore from running for my life earlier, so, if you don’t mind…”

A laugh pushed through John’s nerves and he let himself relax into Rodney’s body and the bed under him. “Whatever, you big whiner.”

They both drifted off sooner rather than later, with John mentally crossing off Rodney’s name and then promptly uncrossing it, leaving a next time hanging in the soft, evening air. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, oh fifteen people who read Stargate fanfics!


End file.
